Resident Evil: Surviving the Outbreak
by Insincere
Summary: Raccoon City was a peaceful, quiet community near the Arklay Mountains. From the very beginning of the initial outbreak in the outskirts of the town till the final dramatic moments of life, follow a series of survivors through the horrors of Umbrella Inc
1. Prologue Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or the characters in this story. I was not in any way, shape or form paid by Capcom to write this story. Though any orginal characters or plot twists or creations etc. are mine. Thank you and enjoy the story.

Resident Evil:

Surviving the Outbreak Prologue 

"I'll get straight to the point," the female voice said, filling the silent room with pops and hisses of static through the tape recording. "I am going to tell it how it was and not skip any part what-so-ever, water it down or sugar coat it in any way, shape, or form. Nothing anyone can say or do can falsify what is about to be told. Whether or not you choose to believe what I have to say is your call, though I already know the truth and that's what is important. I know. I was there." The woman let out an audible sigh ring through the recording that was followed by a long pause.

"I was there in Raccoon City. I was there before, during and after the outbreak. The infection…" the speaker trailed off only a brief second before refocusing and spoke with a practiced patience. "And that is what it was. An infection. One that makes the plagues in the book of Revelation look like a sinus infection, nothing medicines and antibiotics provided by Umbrella wouldn't clear up," the woman said with more then a little sarcasm screaming across the very mention of Umbrella.

"I guess you could say I was one of the few 'lucky' ones that got out." The speaker made sure she was extra careful when annunciating the word lucky, to make sure the listeners knew what she had meant. "Though I don't consider myself lucky, not in the least. I would have preferred to have had died on those streets, where countless others had lost their lives. Why was I to be spared from their fate?" Again, the young woman sighs, her voice trembled slightly, though only for a brief moment before she regained her composure.

"Nothing I can say or do really matters, now. The nights are sleepless, flooded with the nightmares and the screams in the dark. I heard so many. I saw things I pray to God I can un-see. I am surprised I hadn't lost control during… my exodus of the damned city." Another pause had followed; as if the woman that had recorded the tape was thinking hard about what she was going to say next. "The torment of reliving the events of those terrible days and nights will haunt me till the day I die and that very thought is almost more then I can bare." The young orator cleared her throat and began to calm herself a little; though by the way her voice carried through the recording she was very deliberate and methodical in her wording.

"Though, I am somewhat at peace knowing that I was one of the 'lucky' few. Knowing that I won't be the only one that will be fighting against the atrocities that befell Raccoon City and it's residents. I won't be sitting by and watch as this story is covered up, buried, along with every decent human being that had lost their lives, their innocence during this disaster. The truth will come out sooner or later. The untainted, ugly truth will show herself in all her glory."

"Oh," she called out as if she had almost forgotten a point she would not let slip past the attention of the listeners. "I am not doing this for me, or for publicity, or for money. It's important you all know this. It's personal. It's personal for the lives you have taken away, in such a violent and twisted way. I am doing this for all the souls begging in Raccoon City for the truth to be released. And I'll be damned if I don't help ease their suffering."

"This will be the first of many recordings about the events that had transpired before the virus reached the city and tainted all who it touched and during its last dying days. And believe me when I say, this will be the first of many. Alyssa Ashcroft, Raccoon Times."

"It all really came together for me at a bar, in downtown Raccoon…"

Chapter 1:

May 27th 1998

120 Days Before the Outbreak

The phone rang again. It was the sixth time it had rung in the last four minutes. It continued to ring its high-pitched wail, waiting for the frustrated blonde woman sitting behind the desk to pick up the receiver. The woman leaned back in her office chair, looking at her desk tattered with papers, tips, numbers and reports she had strewn about. With a frown she leaned forward, while the phone screamed once again. She could feel a headache coming on. She closed her pale blue eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of her slender nose. Showing no sympathy or compassion, the phone rang again worsening the already building headache. She brushed her bangs behind her right ear and quickly reached for the phone and lifted the receiver.

"Ashcroft," she muttered. She lifted her unfocused gaze to the organized chaos that was taking place outside her cluttered office. Another report had come in about a hiker gone missing in the Arklay Mountain region. The current death toll was one woman and three others missing. They had completely vanished without a trace.

A husky voice was on the other end of the line. His raspy voice almost hurt to listen to for too long. And the worst part about it was she did not have a choice in the matter. "Alyssa, McCarthy just told me you wanna run a headline? And of course you want it to read, "Victim of Cannibal Slaying," huh?" Editor in Chief Garland hissed over the line. "I got ten different city officials up my ass now about a possible cannibal cook on the prowl in the Arklay region, and you are basing it off of what proof? The fuzz have already concluded that the killing of that woman was done by some kind of animal."

Alyssa held the phone tightly in her right hand and pressed it firmly to her right ear. "Listen Chief, I know that other reports have indicated that the woman was mauled by some type of animal. Okay, fine. Let's say that was really the case. Why have several other hikers gone missing in the last forty-eight hours then? I am not sure that the same animal responsible would be able to take on three other people, gobble them up and then go looking for another meal. Unless this thing has got a new record setting metabolism, I really doubt the same thing did it. And there wasn't much left to really discern if it was an animal or not," she retorted staring at her mug that held old coffee she had on her cheaply made oak wood desk.

Garland sighed and let out a low growl. Alyssa could imagine he had just run his hand through his already thinning hair, brushing whatever was left back to hide the growing bald spot. "If you try and link this to those murders at that abandoned hospital a year and a half ago, I will vomit, I swear to God. How can you even possibly link these 'missing' hikers and this dead woman to it?"

"Think about it for a minute okay, Chief? That hospital is not more then five or six miles from those hiking trails, and they never found our good doctor friend. Remember? Need I remind you that at that hospital, several other brutal murders, all dealing with cannibalistic activities occurred there within days of one another? Maybe he still has some friends that are still into munching on the flesh other living people like they had done at the hospital a year and a half ago. I am not saying that it is, just making a point it _could_ be," Alyssa said trying to wet his taste to sell some papers and she knew she could. He may sound pissed over the phone, throw something at you in person, or even flip his desk, both over the phone and in person, he was a businessman looking for papers to sell.

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line and Alyssa knew she had him. She looked out the glass windows through her office that led back into the hellish realm of the Raccoon Times. She glanced at all the faces she could see, some arguing, some running sheets of paper back and forth and a few doing absolutely nothing at all. One of which was Mr. McCarthy, who was staring back into her office while he sipped from his mug. Alyssa took a moment to smile at him, raised her left arm, and give him the middle finger. "Nice tie, asshole" she lip-synced to him and smiled even more when she knew he had got what she had said.

"Alright, fine. I got some conditions I want you to meet. I want to see your draft in thirty minutes, do you hear me? If we wanna make the evening addition, we got to move fast. Also, change the title. Be suggestive without using suggestive words, got me? It's all speculation, okay? Keep it simple too, nothing too elaborate. Got all that? Good. Have it on my desk in twenty minutes," he said not giving her time to respond and quickly hung up.

_Right. I have 'thirty' minutes to do this, which means I have twenty. Then he said on his desk in 'twenty' which means in fifteen. And be suggestive without using suggestive words. Okay fat ass, why don't you put that Twinkie down and jump on a treadmill for 'thirty' minutes and your draft will be done by then, dickhead. And that's what most reporting is, speculation. God, how did you become the Editor in Chief?_

She reached for the mug that was resting on her desk and wondered how old the coffee inside it really was. Taking a quick glance at the dark liquid that sloshed around in the dirty mug, she carefully placed it back down and leaned her head back for a moment and made several quick mental notes about editing the story and the title. With any luck she would be able to stir up a hornets nest with some city hall officials and Chief Irons. That was a name she grew to despise more and more with each passing day.

Police Chief Brian Irons, possibly the most corrupt Police Chief Raccoon has ever come to see. She had never seen a man so far up Umbrella's ass before. If Umbrella suddenly made a quick stop, you would need to call a proctologist to get good old Chief Irons back to work, that's for damn sure. It was blatantly obvious as well. With a little push in the right direction, Alyssa thought she maybe able to find the definite links between Irons and how he has been accepting bribes from the Pharmaceutical company Umbrella Incorporated. The question was why? Why would a respectable Pharmaceutical Company be bribing a Police Chief?

_Think one story at a time. There is always time to go after Irons later. If you don't get this story done and done right, Chief Garland may have an aneurysm and that would be most unfortunate indeed._

Just as Alyssa rubbed her slim pale face with the palms of her hands to help clear her thinking, the phone began to ring once more.

May 30th 1998

The chair inside the Police Chief's office was uncomfortable and Officer Kevin Ryman shifted his weight to give some relief to his backside, sparing it only momentarily from the toughness of the old inflexible leather. The young officer scratched the left side of his head, pushing aside his shaggy dark brown hair. Kevin hated Chief Irons and he was pretty sure everyone else on the Force did as well. Though what he hated the most was staying in the Police Chief's office. The room gave off a vibe that Kevin couldn't shake and while it wasn't directly threatening, it didn't seem right either.

The door to the office opened and Chief Irons stormed into the room, not giving Kevin a chance to stand at attention, and was already seated by the time Kevin could give off a proper salute. Without even acknowledging the salute, Irons pointed to the chair Kevin was in only a moment before. "Sit," was all the pudgy man said.

Kevin only grunted inwardly and took his seat. He looked down at his boots for a second before his gaze rose level with Irons. "So Chief Irons, is this about the results for S.T.A.R.S.?" he asked with a small voice barely keeping eye contact with the Chief of Police. Kevin wasn't openly disrespectful unless someone was being disrespectful to him. Even if it was his superiors.

Irons' eyes narrowed and he folded his pudgy hands on his desk and leaned forward slightly. Kevin watched as he did this and was surprised that the shirt Irons wore did not rip open. It was far too small for someone of his size. "You know damn well this is about your application," the small man spat out behind the safety of his desk. "Officer Ryman, you are a good cop. Really, you are. But S.T.A.R.S. stands for Special Tactics and Rescue Squad." Irons' dull eyes seemed to sparkle when he explained what the word had stood for in the RPD. "Quite frankly, I don't feel you are up for the task of joining this branch of the RPD because I doubt your mode of thinking. Don't get me wrong, you have displayed the physical aspects that S.T.A.R.S. is looking for, but your mental frame just doesn't fit. I am sorry," he said with a sadistic smile.

Kevin stood from his chair with such speed he almost knocked it over. "Sir, please! This is my second time applying for this position. I have aced the tests and you know that. I just want a chance to prove what I am worth out in the field," he said, resting his hands on the desk, leaning over it slightly. By the time he had realized this, he cautiously stood up straight, and stood at attention. "I just want to serve my community the best I can, sir," he said in his failing attempts to barter with the Chief of Police.

Chief Irons looked up at him from his seat and narrowed his eyes, his smile long since faded. "Officer Ryman, I have been on this job longer then you have been alive. If you doubt my ability to judge what you are capable of, I would kindly ask you…order you, to get the hell out of my office now!" he screamed while standing and slamming his two chubby hands down on his desk.

With a nod and through grit teeth, Kevin replied with a, "Yes, sir." He turned around and started for the door and paused when his hand reached the knob.

"Are you deaf?" Irons screamed. "Now doesn't mean take your Goddamn time! It means get out now!"

Before he let Irons finish, he opened the door and walked out into the hallway, slamming the door behind him. Even as he began walking away from the office, he could still hear him screaming some incoherent ramble. He walked all the way back to his locker on the far side of the building and entered the night men's shift room.

He opened the door to the small room and slammed it close. He walked around the large table that served as four desks inside the room and found his locker at the far right, just beyond the table. He stared at the metal nameplate on the door of his locker for several minutes, clenching his fists. Without a warning, he slammed his hands against the metallic surface several times, swearing as he did so.

Behind him, someone had opened the door and entered the room and witnessed the fit of rage. "Hey, hey, calm down buddy. You all right?" the friendly male voice said, moving around the desk to Kevin's side.

With a quick glance to his left, Kevin saw Chris Redfield standing at his side, with one arm half extended and his head tilted to the left. Kevin couldn't speak he was so filled with rage. He just stood there, with his forearms resting on his locker shaking his head side to side.

Chris straightened himself out and his mouth dropped a little. "Aw, don't even tell me that piece of shit rejected you again," the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team member said in utter disbelief. "You are one of the best cops for the job. Why won't they take you?" he asked crossing his arms over his chest with his facial expression souring.

Kevin turned and faced the Alpha and ran his right hand through his hair. "Irons said that while I display the physical requirements for the program, I lack the mental capabilities to effectively join," he said looking down biting his lower lip.

The Alpha raised his brow, slightly shocked at the remark. "Wait, you're telling me that turd with a mustache said you didn't display the mental abilities to join? That's a load of bull if I ever heard it. And I am impressed that that piece of crap worded himself so well," Redfield said with a half smile, trying to lighten the situation a bit.

Shaking his head, Kevin smiled too. "He didn't. God knows that trying to educate a man of Irons' 'capabilities' would be a waste of time, cause God knows Irons is a waste."

Still smiling, Redfield nodded gave him a quick slap on the shoulder. "Listen, I will talk with Wesker about this. Maybe he could reason with Irons."

Kevin continued to shake his head. "No, man. Thanks, but don't. If I am going to get into S.T.A.R.S., I want to get there on my own. I really appreciate the offer though. Tell Barry, Frost and the others I will join up with you all next time," he said punching Chris' shoulder back.

Chris scoffed and nodded. "Alright then man. And hey, listen. Tomorrow night, me and a couple of the S.T.A.R.S. members are going out, wanna tag along?" the Alpha offered sincerely. "Everyone knows that sooner or later Irons will let you in. You are too good to not be with us. So you might as well hang out with us," he said with a smile.

"Nah, its okay. Don't want to cramp the S.T.A.R.S. team style and ruin your reputations. Not to mention beat your asses in darts," he said jokingly, though he had to force the smile.

With a sarcastic look, Chris nodded. "Yeah okay. Like you could ruin our 'reputation' any more. Yeah and try beating me in darts. I am only the best marksman this sorry excuse for a Police Station has got."

"So what, you can aim a gun well. Darts is about judging how much strength to use and how high the arch will be when you throw," Kevin replied with mocking smile tugging at the side of his face.

"Right, prove it then. J's Bar at seven o'clock tomorrow night, buddy," Redfield said as he turned and opened the door back into the hallway.

"Hey, Chris," Kevin called out before he shut the door. "I appreciate all you guys have done for me. I promise sooner or later I will be there with you guys. Count on it," he said giving a firm nod. Chris returned the nod and closed the door.

Kevin stood there a few moments, just staring at the door. Then with a deep sigh, he pulled out a chair from under the table. He looked at his section of the desk in total disarray and reached for a loose paper that was resting on top of a pile of manila folders.

"Three dead in the Arklay region. Possibility of these being animal attacks diminish…" The report went on describing the state of the bodies and which they were found. Kevin sighed and hoped that these were all just animal attacks. Though if they weren't, he figured Redfield and the S.T.A.R.S. team would be called in to investigate in the near future.

_I wish I could be there with you guys when they call you in on this case. Lord knows you will crack it within forty-eight hours. I will show Irons that I am fit enough to be on S.T.A.R.S. It will just take a little time…_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Date Unknown

Post Destruction of Contamination Zone

"I remember so much of the disaster and yet at the same time, I find my thoughts clouded and uncertain. The things I saw happen in that city couldn't have been real. These things aren't supposed to exist. They are only real in the nightmares of young children, who run to their mothers after dreaming it and are assured that there is no such thing as monsters. That they are only made up. What were mothers supposed to tell their children in Raccoon?" Alyssa asked with a light voice. There was a short pause, though the silence seemed to go on for an eternity. The recording continued on with complete and total attention from the unknown listeners while her voice carried and echoed throughout the room.

"One thing that really bothers me the most about all that had occurred during those fateful days in Raccoon was watching some of the people I was running with breakdown and lose hope. It was a hard thing to see, especially considering how close we had all become while we tried to escape that hellish city. I met a lot of people, old and young, strong and weak, brave and scared, though one of them really held a lot of us together. His name was David King," Alyssa said with a hint of sadness to her voice. "Don't get me wrong. We ALL had our moments of despair. And while a few people really tried to keep us all from total mental collapse, David King stands out the most for me." There was a muffled sound in the background of the recording and Alyssa fell silent immediately.

Time ticked away and there was nothing but silence on her end of the recording. After several moments, she returned with a trembling voice. Once she began to speak, her voice cracked and had stopped in mid-word. She cleared her throat and tried once more, taking her time in bringing her thoughts into articulate words. "Sorry for wasting more of your precious time. It's hard adjusting back to a normal life…or whatever you want to call it. Even though the worst part of the outbreak was the last few days before the city was…" Alyssa found herself trailing off again, no doubt haunted by the memories in Raccoon.

Alyssa's voice seemed to change in tone and she let whatever she was going to say remain unsaid. "You know what really troubles me the most? Despite all I saw and heard during those long days, the thing that really terrifies me is not knowing what happened to David, or for that matter several close friends of mine. After all we went through to help one another, all David had done to help me, I don't even know if he is okay. My heart tells me to cling on to hope, but my mind tells me that he is… I mean after all, we were separated about a day before Raccoon was leveled."

"Call me stubborn, thick headed, stupid or whatever you want. I believe he did get out of the city. That he did manage to save himself and is starting a new life, somewhere far away from Raccoon City. Far, far away from Umbrella. I know this because… I just do. I am a reporter after all. My instincts tell me that he managed to find a way to escape before the bombs went off." Alyssa spoke as if she were in love. Though while her words were spoken out of a gentle and genuine compassion, they came out with more malice present then anything.

"Though, I doubt I will ever really find out now… But maybe in this case, ignorance is the best solution. Though, I will be honest with you. It doesn't help me sleep any better at night, that's for damn sure."

June 9th

3:07 P.M.

The roads were tightly packed heading towards downtown Raccoon City. The traffic was getting increasingly worse and David King found himself right smack in the middle of rush hour in a Carlin and Co. plumbing van, barely moving. Cursing silently to himself, he flipped on the radio and turned the dial till he reached station 97.1, The Voice of Raccoon.

"…Clear skies for tonight's forecast. Now for your traffic update. Try and avoid Highway 12 and 32nd Street. Two different car accidents in the left lanes have resulted in major delays and the closing of those lanes. Delays are expected to be at least thirty-minutes on both roads…" the male voice said and continued giving other reports on traffic throughout the city.

David heard all he needed to hear. He was on 32nd Street and clenched his gloved hands tightly on the steering wheel of the van. David hated vans and hated plumbing even more. Though one thing he could not stand was being stuck in his plumbing van in almost bumper-to-bumper traffic. What made it tolerable was knowing he made a decent wage and had learned a great deal about fixing things. That was something he wished he could do with his past. Without feeding another moment to that line of thinking, he got back on the task on hand, the non-existent flow of traffic.

"Well, looks like I'll be late then…" he muttered and reached for the CB radio that was installed in the small white repair van. David snatched up the small mic and held the send button on the side. "Harvey, it's David. I'm stuck in traffic on 32nd so I'm gonna be late for Mr. McNamara. Phone ahead and let him know," David said with a sigh and let go of the send button.

There was a hiss from the speaker of the CB radio and Harvey's voice filled the cramped van too well. "Alright, Dave. You got it."

Without replying, he placed the mic back in its holder. In the few minutes that had gone by, the traffic moved little more then half a mile. David frowned knowing that this packed two lane street would soon turn to only one lane of agitated drivers which meant the chances of another accident taking place were about to get a whole lot higher. David grit his teeth at the very thought of being in a deadlock.

"…And in other news, the Raccoon City Police Department has now set up road blocks leading into the Arklay Mountain region as well as possible hiking trails due to the related slayings of six Raccoon City residents. The police are asking that everyone stay clear of the Arklay region until the culprits of these cannibal killings are apprehended. Police are also requesting that anyone with any pertinent information regarding this case to please contact them immediately…"

Not wanting to hear another word, David turned off the radio, completely disgusted.

_Why would anyone want to do something like that? I mean that is some seriously deep psychological shit buried under the surface that needs major therapy or a repeated hit to the head with a nine iron to correct._

David sighed out of frustration and yawned as the traffic moved a few feet further. He did not accelerate right away and watched as the small green car in front of him pull away suddenly and stopped just as quick. With a smile, he eased on the gas and suddenly hit the brake as a truck cut into his lane just in front of him without signaling.

"Nice signal, asshole!" David screamed as he leaned out the driver side window. The driver of the red truck extended his left arm out from his window and gave him the finger.

_Do it to my face next time punk and we will see what happens… God, why won't this traffic move?_

Farther down the road, David could see other vehicles from the left lane begin to merge into his lane and the already restricted flow of traffic began to worsen. "At least we are getting closer," David whispered to himself and stepped on his brake. As he did this, a truck several car lengths ahead cut into the left lane without signaling. There was a loud screech from the tires of a vehicle, which one David was not sure of. There was another piercing sound, this time it was of crunching metal and shattering glass.

Through narrowed eyes and grit teeth, David reached for the mic of his radio. He pressed the talk button down so tightly that his hand began to visibly shake. "Harvey, phone ahead to Mr. McNamara again. Looks like he may need to reschedule…"

June 13th

3:48 P.M.

A young blonde woman was sitting in the somewhat empty kitchen of a single bedroom apartment with her hands folded neatly on the table that was laid out before her. The dull white walls were completely bare. There were large brown cardboard boxes scattered throughout the cramped living space, making it difficult to navigate without banging into other unpacked belongings or the flimsy walls themselves.

Cindy Lennox was still new to Raccoon City and while she had enough money to put a down payment on her apartment, she had no other means of raising money. She anxiously stared at the small white telephone that was directly in front of her and chattered her teeth, hoping that someone would call her back after applying at several local bars and restaurants.

_Please God, let someone call back. I want to finally be out on my own living my own life. Don't make me go back to my parent's house, please…_

It was nothing against her parents. Cindy loved her mother and father very much. It wasn't like they would not give her money if she needed it. The fact of the matter was that she wanted to finally be out on her own and say she worked for her apartment and no longer needed her family to carry her. She was a woman trying to find her place in life and wanted to get to where she was going on her own. Although, not knowing if she could find work to maintain a stable income was hell on her nerves. Not to mention it was going to be hell to get all of her belongings back into her coupe. It would not be as bad as she…

The phone rang, startling Cindy for just a brief second before she reached for the receiver with lightning speed. She almost knocked the phone off the table, though both of her hands gripped the receiver with a deathlike grip ensuring it would not hit the floor if the rest of the phone had fallen.

Cindy very carefully brought the receiver up to her ear and froze. She could not speak or even breathe. Fear had taken hold. Fear that she would not be able to find any work. Panic was now racing back and forth through her mind.

_Oh my God. Oh my God. This is it…_

Gathering every last bit of calm she had in her, she took a deep breath and released it. "Hello?" She bit her lower lip and used her free hand to twirl her long blonde hair around her pointer finger.

"Hello, is this Cindy?" the male voice asked in a somewhat annoyed manner.

It was as if Cindy had just been punched in the gut. She nodded to herself and took another deep breath, though it was not as relaxing as the first was. "Yes. This is her speaking."

"Yeah, this is Jay, from J's Bar. I was calling about the application you had put in," he said in a monotone voice.

Cindy frowned. She knew she was in trouble if the rest of her applications were handled in the same fashion. Though, she held onto the phone and again she had nodded to herself. "Okay."

"Well, we regret to inform you that you have a job with us," Jay said, seemingly more light hearted then he was only a moment before.

"What?" Cindy asked, not sure if she heard correctly or if he was playing a joke on her.

Jay was laughing now on the other line. "Sorry kiddo. Anyway, we do have a job opening and if you would like to take it, that would be great."

Cindy's heart had skipped a beat. "Of-yes… Yes, well of course," she stammered out. She suddenly felt very bashful and stupid after her trouble with accepting. A simple 'yes' would have fit perfectly, though she could hardly do anything right.

"Great, that is wonderful," Jay said, still chuckling on the other end of the receiver. "Well, just for the record, I really didn't want to hire you."

"Oh," Cindy replied with a frown. "Well, if you don't want to hire me, that's okay, I guess," she whimpered. The more Cindy thought about the job opening at J's, the more she felt it may not be a good idea to accept the job if he had not wanted to hire her in the first place.

"You see, our bartender Will, he's a real good guy. Turns out I think he's got a crush on ya, cause after you had applied, he had come in asking about you as you were leaving," Jay said chuckling. The chuckling turned to full out laughter in a matter of seconds. "Listen, I'm sorry. I have a strange sense of humor. Anyway, on a serious note, I would really like you to stop by later in the week to start you off if that's okay?" he said in a totally different tone then what he had before. It was like Cindy was now speaking with a completely different person.

Cindy was not sure what to say. She was so confused about the entire conversation. Whether or not she would like to admit it, a smile was tugging at the corner of her mouth. Maybe this job was for her and if it was not, she would find out while she was training. "Sure, I could come in and start training whenever you'd like me to."

"Awesome. Well, would it be possible for you to come in tomorrow? We could go over our procedures and our uniforms. Not to mention we could probably start you off in training tomorrow too," Jay said in a very professional manner. Cindy was convinced now that he was being very serious and that he sounded like a very interesting person.

Cindy found herself nodding again. "Sure. I will stop by tomorrow then. Thank you so much. I needed this job so badly," she had said sincerely. She had felt a rush of relief pass over her and could not help but smile.

"Don't thank me. I'd really like to have you work with us here. Oh and Will says 'hi,'" Jay said chuckling. "Anyway, tomorrow morning at 8 a.m. Okay? Take care, Miss Lennox and I will be seeing you then."

"Again, thank you so much Jay. I will definitely be there," she replied hanging up the phone and smiled even wider. She remained in her seat, still not moving a muscle. As she sat there, she remembered when she had been applying at _J's Bar_ and remembered that Jay did act somewhat oddly, though she was far to nervous to notice then.

_He was very nice when I had spoken to him in person. Give the job a chance. Everything will work out. Who knows, maybe Will is cute too._

She had almost immediately stopped that line of thinking and without warning; Cindy jumped up from her seat and jumped up and down in her kitchen, screaming at the top of her lungs. "I have a job! I have a job!"

That was the only thing that circulated through her mind for the next few hours to come.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Date Unknown

Post Destruction of Contamination Zone

"Have you ever wondered if you were crazy? I'm not talking about breakdowns or psychotic episodes. What I am talking about is true insanity. Have you ever truly wondered if you were insane? Is there a limit to insanity? Are there different levels of it? I figured I would ask the experts on this. So, are there?" Alyssa whispered. If she had meant it as a joke, neither she herself nor the listeners found any amusement in it. "Well, I guess that answers that, then."

"The chaos in the city got to a lot of us. If anyone were to ask me what the word insanity meant, I would simply reply, 'Raccoon City.'" Alyssa paused for a long time. There was silence, both on the tape recording and in the room. After at least five minutes of total silence, she began to speak once again. "The thing that really bothered me was there were people who actually knew this was going on or was going to happen. Don't get me wrong; when the S.T.A.R.S. tried to warn us about monsters and hellish creations in a secret lab in the middle of the woods, sure, we thought _they_ were crazy. Truth be told, if they had said there was a chemical agent being released in the city, I think more people would have decided to leave while there was still a chance."

"Once the roadblocks were set up to keep us trapped inside the dying town was when everything we came to know ended. Sure, at first when the attacks started, people would help people. They would offer one another a helping hand. That soon came to a screaming halt when everyone realized escape was impossible. It was dog eat dog. I'm surprised our group held so strongly under all the pressure. Although, sometimes that bond we developed was more harmful then we had all realized."

"Yoko Suzuki was a young woman I at first grew to hate. Once we found out that Umbrella was responsible for all of this, we all knew that Umbrella would be dead to us all. Then when we had found out Yoko had worked in the company, a few of us were tempted to leave her behind. Dog eat dog."

"Yoko Suzuki was a young woman I learned to love. With all the pain and suffering Umbrella brought us, it was ten fold for her. That girl made it her mission to destroy Umbrella when everything started to come undone. With the information we had gathered on your dealings, I made sure she knew that I would make that information known. Kinda sucks, huh? One of your brightest stars sought to ruin you. "Dog eat dog…"

June 15th

12:55 P.M.

There was one flashing red light on the computer monitor inside of the sleek lab facility. Soon there was another flashing red light, followed by a third. Before long, the entire screen flashed red. The monitor continued to show the overly red light for another minute before the screen totally went black and shut itself down. The small lab finally returned to its status quo and all that could be heard was the dull hums of miniature fans inside of the machinery scattered throughout the laboratory.

Yoko Suzuki was sitting behind her desk staring blankly at the monitor before her. Several of her coworkers let out sighs and mild curses of disapproval before they returned to their workstations to ready the experiment again. Yoko blinked absent mindedly, still awe struck at the failed results of several hours' worth of work.

"Way to go, Yoko," Monica snickered from behind her. "If you had stuck with the said procedures, you would have got the correct results the first time and saved us from having to repeat it." Monica's every word was hostile and directed towards Yoko, trying to undermine her authority.

Very slowly, Yoko rose from her seat and straightened her yellow Umbrella lab coat and adjusted her black skirt. She was shorter then Monica by at least a foot and with her somewhat bashful charm about her, she commanded less respect from those she worked with. Though this did not stop her from defending herself and proving her point.

"Then what would you suggest we do? Follow a procedure that doesn't work? This _thing_ we are working with can kill everyone in this room if handled incorrectly. Not only can it do that, mind you, it's in a constant phase of metamorphosis. How can you base a set of procedures on something it cannot apply to? But then again, I'm sure you already knew that judging on the protocol you had chosen even though it's already over ten hours old," Yoko shot back in a cooled and collected manner. Though, much like Monica's snide remark, this in turn was hostile in a less threatening manner.

By the time Yoko had finished speaking, many of her coworkers had stopped what they had been doing and let out brief chuckles or audible acknowledgements. One of the lab technicians even went so far as to remark about Monica's choice of using the old data. Among his carefully chosen words, amateur was one of them.

Yoko stood before Monica, still in control and unflinching. On the other hand, both of Monica's slender hands were made into white knuckled fists. Her jaw was clenched tightly and she began to tremble visibly.

"If you had known I was using old data, you should have said something about it then," Monica stammered out, rage gripping all of the features on her face. She began to shake so much her brown-red hair swayed back and forth, freeing itself from her loose pony tail.

Yoko smiled and brushed a few strands of her short jet-black hair away from her glasses and delicately moved them behind her ear. "I found out a little more then half way through the experiment. Besides, you are supposed to trust your protocol analyst. Or is that trust misplaced?" Yoko continued, smiling inwardly and several more if not all her coworkers either grunted or agreed with her.

Not wasting another moment, Monica stormed out of the lab, only helping to further her humiliation. Yoko sighed and shook her head. She did not enjoy arguing with her colleagues, especially Monica. She had a job to do and wished to get it done. But that was also the problem. The longer she worked with Umbrella Incorporated, the more she got the feeling that this was not an average pharmaceutical company. She had heard rumors about genetic hybrids and other abominations, but those were just rumors.

Yoko shrugged off her feelings of unease. She was just getting carried away on ideas and stories she had heard. There was no proof to warrant Umbrella was doing anything of the sort. Though the pay was enough to make you not question what they were doing.

"Yoko, we are ready when you are," one of the lab technicians said from his lab station, bringing her back to the here and now.

"Okay. This time lets use the updated protocol." Now that Yoko had really thought about Umbrella, she wondered why they had such a deadly bacterial agent. With the results they had been getting, even from the failed experiments, it had more characteristics of a virus.

_Umbrella knows what they are doing. Trust them. After all, they wouldn't lie to us about something like this, would they?_

A stern voice again brought her back to the present, though this time she could not recognize it. "Hello Ms. Suzuki. I see you have done very well here the last couple of weeks. Your progress has been…impressive." The man was of average height and build. Strangely enough, he seemed to have a strong impact on the mood and the level of professionalism in the lab.

Yoko found herself very intimidated by the man. She was not sure what to say or do if indeed anything should be done at all. "Thank you," she said struggling to sound professional and collected. "Only if we uh, if we had better protocols to follow we may be able to get better results," she said, fighting with herself to stay in control of her emotions.

The nameless man was unnerving. He just stood their smiling and looked her in the eyes with a piercing gaze. The suit he wore Yoko was unfamiliar with. She knew on the other hand that it must have been extraordinarily expensive. The man smiled even wider if that were possible, obviously picking up on her unease.

"Relax. I'm actually here to promote you to head of this department. If you want the job that is," he said plain and simply. It was the way he had spoken that gave it such complexity and depth.

Yoko was paralyzed. She could not think or move, let alone say yes. She only blinked once, not sure if this was really happening or not.

The man let a small laugh escape, still smiling. "I will take that as a yes. Oh my, where have my manners gone?" he whispered as he extended his hand. "I'm your new boss, Ms. Suzuki. You can call me Trent…"

June 16th

11:09 P.M.

The air was strangely cold for June. There was not a single cloud that could be seen in the sky. The moon was full and shown beautifully upon a slumbering Raccoon City. Mark Wilkins, a security guard for Umbrella Inc. Distributors, Downtown District was clocking out from his shift with his friend and coworker Bob, who wore a matching gray security guard uniform.

Mark ran his large dark hand over his goatee and let out a sigh of relief. "Another eventful night, huh?" he scoffed jokingly as he took his hours card and slipped it into the clock out machine. Behind the large African American was a much smaller Bob who in turn grunted at the remark.

"Why is a company like Umbrella hiring a whole bunch of old has been ex-military or law enforcement guys to look after all of their medicines and painkillers? Think about it, seriously," Bob said as he managed to push his arm around Mark and drop his hours card into the clock out machine.

Mark let out a low growl. "Ask all you want about why Umbrella does what they do. But let me tell you something, I ain't old."

Bob could barely contain his laughter. "I hate to break this to you, but you aren't exactly twenty…or thirty. Hell for that matter, you aren't even forty anymore," he said trying his best not to insult his friend. "When you get to be my age…"

"I won't even get to your age, you old fossil. You're the only guy that knows how the dinosaurs died and you won't tell no one," Mark shot back with a grin.

After a brief moment, both men burst into laughter inside the small office of the security clock out room. "That's what I'm trying to tell ya, Mark. I thought the same thing. Only now I accept it and not question it, but I question everything else. Which brings me back to my point of Umbrella hiring so many security guards," Bob said settling down from his laughing fit.

With a shrug, Mark looked back at his friend and shook his head. "I don't know. Though my guess would be they don't want anyone breaking in and getting free medicine before it's shipped off to their stores," he said as he moved toward the back of the already cramped clock out room and entered the combination to his locker.

Following the much larger man, Bob moved to his locker as well. "I guess, but I get this really weird feeling about Umbrella sometimes. They never tell us when a shipment is coming until it's basically here and it goes without say they never tell us what's in the shipment. They are up to something," Bob whispered in all seriousness.

"I guess paranoia is another thing you have to watch out for when you get to be as old as you are," Mark said as he reached for a green duffle bag filled with his personal belongings. He also unclipped his gun belt that held his nine-millimeter pistol. The belt also carried his radio, pepper spray, flashlight, three extra magazines for the gun and cuffs.

"See? Why would a normal security guard need all of that?" Bob shot out as he too removed his gun belt and hung it in his locker.

Mark smiled widely and paused what he had been doing. "That's an easy question to answer, Bob. I'm sure you know how expensive this stuff is once it hits stores. Umbrella just wants to keep the poor man poor. Hell, I thought everyone knew that."

There was nothing but silence as the two men began to gather their personal belongings. That was when Mark had realized that Bob was actually being serious with his accusations about Umbrella. Noticing the hurt expression on Bob's worn face, he quickly tried to counter what he had just said.

"Yeah, I do see where you are coming from, Bob. I gotta admit, they do have a lot of security for this place. I'll also say that Umbrella does pay us more then your average security guard too, which I'm not complaining about."

Bob shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck with his tired hand. "That's the problem Marky boy. No one is complaining about all the money Umbrella dumps into this town, all the jobs Umbrella provides, nor do they complain about Umbrella's generous services. No on is complaining about anything."

Mark watched as his friend seemed to drift off for a moment and really let what he had said sink in. He had listened to Bob's rants before, but maybe he was right. Mark never thought to question Umbrella because of all the money they threw his way to be a security guard. Maybe that money was not a payment for his job. Maybe it was a payment to keep him from questioning what Umbrella was really up to.

_Now you are sounding as crazy as old Bob here. Shut up about an Umbrella conspiracy and go out for a beer._

"Hey Bob, come on. What do you say to getting a drink and some chow from _J's Bar_? My treat tonight," Mark said closing his locker and hefting up the small green duffle bag over his shoulder.

Bob removed a small duffle bag of his own and smiled. "Now you are just trying to make me feel better. I see how it is," he said with a low and defeated voice. "It's fine by me if you insist, though."

It was true. Mark did feel badly for brushing off his idea and conspiracy theory, but it was also because Bob was a friend and wanted to buy him a beer. While it did not seem like he cared much for Bob's crazy stories was because he almost believed it himself. It was something he did not want to deal with again. No lies about how things really were, like Vietnam. The thought sent a chill down his spine.

_Not tonight. I want to have a dreamless sleep when I get home. Even if that means I have to be too drunk to remember it._

Without saying another word, both men left the Umbrella warehouse and moved into the virtually empty parking lot.

"Man, I almost feel nervous walking out here at night now. With those cannibal killers on the run and all," Bob commented as the pair began the long walk to their vehicles.

Mark Grunted. "It'll take a lot for those punks to get the drop on me, that's for damn sure. Anyway it wouldn't matter."

"Oh, why's that tough guy?" Bob said light heartedly.

"Well, for the fact I'm carrying my nine millimeter is one reason. The second reason is I'd rip their hearts out and feed it to em after I shot out their knees," he shot back, jokingly.

Bob nodded. "Fair enough, old buddy. Fair enough. Are you driving tonight?" he asked as he reached into his pocket for his car keys.

"I'll drive, pops," Mark said pulling his keys to his SUV out. "Don't need another old timer out on the road at night when he can barely see in broad daylight. Man is it a beautiful night," he whispered as he looked at the night sky.

Mark and Bob both laughed once again as they had climbed into his SUV and started the engine.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Date Unknown

Post Destruction of Contamination Zone

"I realize that you all must be wondering if what I am telling you has anything to do with the outbreak of the virus, your virus, or not. Before you all begin cursing at me for wasting your precious time, I will explain it for you. You know, just in case you don't get it the first time around," Alyssa said with a tired voice. She took a deep breath that seemed to be glass shattering in the dead silence of the room.

"I'm bringing you all back this far to show you that this disaster wasn't a statistic. I'm showing you that these were and still are people. Human beings. Of course it's silly of me to think you would get that, even with my explanation. You all must have lost your humanity a long time ago."

"George Hamilton was…" Alyssa stopped herself in mid sentence. It sounded like she laughed under her breath. "George Hamilton _is_ a good man. I never once met a man as friendly or caring prior to nor have I met one since. George was a man everyone grew to trust and he was always quick to offer a helping hand. I guess it was in his nature, considering he was a doctor after all."

"It was heart breaking knowing that he wanted to be back at the hospital to try and help who ever he could. As selfish as this may sound, I am glad he was with us rather then be at that hospital. From what I heard, the hospital was one of the worst places to be. I felt that being in that damn city was the worst place to be, no matter what area you were stuck in. That's only what I had heard though…"

June 23rd

6:47 P.M.

"Paging Doctor Hamilton, paging Doctor Hamilton. You are needed in the OR." The woman's voice on the other end of the intercom was vaguely familiar and at the present moment George Hamilton did not care in the least. It had been a very long day and he was beyond exhausted.

George was resting in his leather arm chair inside of his homey office. He had taken several paintings and pictures from his home to decorate the walls of the room. There was a bookshelf to the desks left filled with medical volumes on the top and middle shelf. The bottom shelf nearest the floor was filled with books of poetry and novels written by H.G. Wells as well as plays by Shakespeare.

No more then a minute had passed when he was paged again. His eyes were dry and blood shot and he had worked like a dog all day. What made it worse was his shift was technically almost over. From the looks of it on the other hand, it was just starting to warm up.

The door to his office opened and in came an Indian man with a thick mustache, who wore a long white coat and dress slacks. He also wore a yellow button down shirt and a pale red tie. Before the man said anything George rolled his head back and sighed.

"I know, I know. I am going now, Hursh," George muttered as he rose up from his seat.

Hursh put his hands up and motioned him back down into his seat. "Don't worry about it, George. I sent Ethan to go in your place. You can go home if you want. It's been a hard day," he said as he approached George and sat in one of the two chairs before the desk, which were far less comfortable then George's chair.

The news Hursh had brought did not give him any sense of relief. "Ethan, you said? I wouldn't trust leaving Ethan to properly examine a cadaver," George said flatly.

With a grin, Hursh crossed his legs and leaned closer to George. "That's exactly why I'll stay behind tonight too. Go home and get some rest George."

Wasting no time at all, George replied. "No. That would mean you've been on call the last day and a half, Hursh. If anyone should be going home, it's you."

Hursh waved his hand as if he had dismissed what George had said. "I'll stay behind for now, George. I would like to ask a small favor of you, though."

With a reluctant nod, George agreed. He knew that arguing with Hursh about the topic was going to be in vain. When Hursh made up his mind, he was as stubborn as an ox. "Yeah, sure. What is it?"

"My wife would like you to stop by next weekend for dinner. You are either here working or at your home by yourself. It wouldn't hurt to interact with people on occasion you know," Hursh said with a grin stretching across his face.

George shrugged and nodded again. "I know, you tell me all the time I need to get out more. And Hursh, don't get me wrong, I love your wife. She is a great woman, but my God, what an awful cook," he said half joking, though on the other hand half serious.

"Exactly my point. I don't have to be forced to 'indulge' myself with second servings or leftovers," Hursh replied. There was a moment of silence before both men erupted with laughter.

"I didn't mean for that to sound that offensive," George gasped between laughs.

Hursh continued laughing whole heartedly waving his hand as he too gasped for breath. "I know. I know… But it's so true." George and Hursh laughed even harder filling the office with a wide variety of squeaks, wheezes and huffs.

After a minute had passed, both men regained their composure and returned to their seemingly normal yet sophisticated selves. George wiped away some tears and he nodded to himself.

"You're right, Hursh. I do need to get out and try and socialize more often. It's just… I don't know. The job is so demanding and I don't know how you manage to have a beautiful wife and put up with this nonsense," George whispered finally, meaning every word he spoke.

Silence filled the room for a full minute before either man said another word. "Well sometimes you need to set up priorities, George. Life has more to it then just work, believe it or not," Hursh replied just as quietly with as much sincerity as George had.

There was another silence that filled the room as the two men sat there, deep in thought. Suddenly a piercing voice came over the intercom. It was the same woman as before.

"Paging Doctor Hursh, paging Doctor Hursh. You are needed in the O.R."

As Hursh rose from his seat, George stood as well. "Thank you, Hursh. It's always a pleasure speaking with you," he said as he extended his hand.

Hursh gripped Georges hand firmly and nodded. "Anytime." He walked towards to door of the office and rested his hand on the golden knob and turned to face George. "You should come out with me and Issac. I know you're not a big golfer but at least you'd be out, right?"

"Maybe I will," he said as Hursh opened the door and disappeared into the hospital hallways. "Maybe I will…"

June 25th

2:04 P.M.

"Hey! Are you listening to me, Chapman?" Heff Jones screamed, directing all his anger towards the subway attendant. Jim Chapman found himself on the verge of yawning though he knew that would only prolong his stay in Mr. Jones' office which he would much rather avoid if at all possible.

"Are you stupid? Are you deaf? Do you not hear me?" he continued, trying to evoke a reaction that Jim knew would get him fired.

"No sir, I hear you loud and clear. I just don't see what the problem is," Jim said regretting it almost instantly.

Heff blinked with his mouth ajar in utter amazement. He straightened himself standing at a towering six foot five inches. Heff's gaze was unflinching and his upper lip twitched under his mustache. "The problem is that you cursed off an old woman in front of management. Not to mention you flipped off those same management personnel."

Jim shrugged. "How was I supposed to know that they were a part of management? They weren't in uniform or nothin," he said almost smiling now.

Heff clenched his jaw and his somewhat pudgy face turned beat red. "That's the whole point you jackass! To catch people like you in the act when they think no one is looking!" he screamed, spitting all over himself and Jim.

With a look of disgust, Jim wiped some of his bosses spit from his eye in an exaggerated movement. "That was nasty, man. Really fuckin nasty."

Not letting another second elapse, Heff screamed more incoherently pointing towards his office door. Jim could vaguely make out the words, "Get out." He actually tried his best not to discern anything else the man was yelling about. What he could not miss on the other hand was Heff spitting everywhere as he continued his temper tantrum.

Jim exited the monitoring office and made a left and walked down the narrow and dirty hallway. He passed two 'T' intersections along with some other subway attendants and turned to his left to face the employee locker room. He opened the door and entered the disorderly room and made his way over to his locker on the adjacent wall. Jim entered the combination to the locker door and then immediately slammed it shut.

"Hey Jim, you okay man?" Tyler asked from the bunks on the opposite side of the room.

"Pfft, yeah. But that bitch Jones doesn't know shit bout nothin man. The fool is just trying to keep a brother down," Jim said staring at his locker.

There was a grunt from the other side of the room. "Yeah well, I'm no brother but I hear ya. Give a piece of refried crap like him some power; he will walk all over everyone."

Jim smiled and nodded. "Yeah, but he's still a bitch no matter what anyone says. Man, if that sucka wasn't white, I'd beat his ass without the fear of cops beatin my ass. That dick," Jim said playfully. No matter how much he hated Jones and wanted to lash out against him, Jim found that he could not.

There was another grunt from the bunks just past a second row of lockers. There was a loud creak of old springs as if someone had got up from one of the bunks. Then there was a shuffling sound of feet dragging on the floor and they continued to grow louder until his friend appeared from behind the other row of lockers.

Tyler was older then Jim by about six years, though he looked and moved like he was at least thirty years older. Tyler rubbed his eyes and yawned. "Don't let him get to you. That's what he wants. He wants you to lose your cool and say or do something stupid so you can get pinched. Beat him at his own game and don't give in. Just take it. Sooner or later he'll be the one to slip up and you could nab him then," he said reassuringly.

Jim turned to face Tyler and shook his head. "See man, that bullshit attitude won't get you no where man. If I had my nine…" he said trailing off and made a mock gun with his thumb and pointer finger. With a smile, Jim pretended to fire his gun repeatedly.

"If you had your 'nine' what?" Tyler repeated. "That's what I'm talking about. That's the 'bullshit' attitude that'll get you in trouble. Not only with Heff, either. That could be taken as a threat to someone's life man." With a sigh, Tyler patted Jim's shoulder. "Well look on the bright side, you got a beautiful Raccoon Subway Attendant uniform," he said with a grin.

Jim pushed Tyler away in a friendly playful manner. "Please… This shit sucks man. I'd rather be… well… maybe not," he said cutting off his own train of thought.

Tyler cocked an eyebrow, curious as to what Jim had been previously thinking. "Rather be what?"

Jim shook his head and held a serious expression on his face. "Naw man, it would be better if you didn't hear it," he said with a small grin creeping up at the corner of his mouth.

"Come on man, its cool. Tell me," Tyler said trying to press the topic.

With a hesitant nod, Jim leaned in closer to Tyler. "I'd rather be bangin your momma then have to wear this shit. You know what they say, 'once you go black, you never go back," he said with a strange but joking face.

"Oh man, that's just wrong," Tyler replied smiling and then proceeded to push Jim into his locker and threw a few light punches. Jim curled up and burst out laughing.

"Wait man. Wait, hold up" he said in a desperate attempt to stop Tyler's playful attacks.

Tyler stopped and let Jim go. "What is it? Do I hear that Jim Chapman just got bitched?"

"Nah dawg, but your momma is into some freaky shit man. Real freaky shit," Jim said pushing Tyler away from him laughing hysterically.

Tyler made a soured expression. "That's beyond wrong dude."

Jim could only muster a smile for a moment. "Yeah, but you know me man. I'm a lover not a fighter." Again, Jim was sent into a laughing fit, pointing at Tyler this time.

"That'll make it easier for me to make you a bitch, bitch," Tyler replied with a grin. "Anyway, you going to that thing Sarah's having tonight?"

Not sure what to say, Jim gave a low grunt. "I could I guess man, but I don't know." Jim turned back to face is locker and opened it again.

Tyler took a few steps back, somewhat shocked. "You don't know? The party boy doesn't know? Come on man, you know you want to go."

Jim turned his head to face Tyler with a saddened expression. "I want to, I do. I just want to go somewhere with my life. I mean, I don't wanna be stuck workin this subway all my life. I wanna move away, see another place. I don't wanna be stuck here my whole life."

There was an awkward silence in the employee bunk room. Neither man moved nor said anything for a full minute. "I hear ya. Do what you gotta do," Tyler said in an understanding manner. "But my mom will be there."

"Ha. Then you know I'm there. But seriously, I think I'm gonna pass. Thanks for the invite though, bro," Jim said surprising Tyler as much as himself.

Tyler nodded with the slightest of grins. "Okay. The offer is still on the table if you change your mind," he replied as he removed his subway cap from his back pocket and placed the worn hat on his head. He then moved towards the door Jim had come in from and exited the room.

_I better get out of this damn city or I swear to God I'll end up dying here._

Jim closed his locker again with a sigh. He again stared at the locker not sure what he had been looking for in the first place. "Time to get to work, Mr. Chapman," he said in a mocking voice of Heff Jones. He removed his cap and ran his hand through his bleach blonde hair and sighed. Jim shook his head and put his cap back on and left the room as well.


End file.
